To Sink a Ship
by IVIaedhros
Summary: A collection of cracked and otherwise neglected pairings, some serious and some…not so much. Approach with caution and always use protection. Latest pairings: ErkxLouise, SainxEveryone, KarelxSerra, FlorinaxWallace, LuciusxVaida...
1. The Angel and the Dragon

_Yea, so I got sick of seeing the same pairings over and over again. This is just a little something that I work on when I've hit a road block with my more "serious" works..thus, this is not a serious work. I have no intention of going through the trouble of planning these things or extensively screening them for errors. I simply hope to inspire a little more creativity amongst my fellow few fire emblem scribes…in that vein if you have any requests that aren't considered the norm, feel free to ask for 'em in a review. Couple things though:_

_-If you're going to request a pairing, please give me some sort of scenario to go with it. _

_-I make no promises that I'll actually do what's requested. This purely for my own enjoyment, though I do fulfill a request, I'll message you saying that I've done so. _

_-No slash, het, yaoi, or yuri. _

**The Angel and the Dragon**

The mighty nation of Bern is a hard and unforgiving country carved from the bones of the mountains by the sweat and tears of miners and the blood of soldiers. The architecture native to its immense capital reflects the hard past in its uncompromising and uniform lines, hard granite and rigid streets. Iron and copper form the skeleton and ornaments of a hundred towers ringing soaring walls and fortified buttresses. The mightiest can never afford to show weakness or warmth to the outside.

Yet, beauty survives. The cold and bleak sunsets break themselves on the spines of the Carcinieness mountain range and fall in a wide sheen over the many, artificial lakes surrounding the main city. Mountain goats, surer of foot than any man, traipse over razor sharp rocks in games of courting or play as their young recklessly hurdle after. Wild flowers, carefully plucked from grassy balds atop remote peaks, are cultivated in the occasional window. If the city is hard and unforgiving of variance, it is also beautiful in its austerity: a queen chiseled by an exacting hand from marble.

But even a queen of marble has her hidden soft spots. You could spend a lifetime in Bern and never find them, but they're there: the old woman near Bronze Fountainhead who has been lovingly weaving her cloaks since before the birth of King Bernard or the young man who gives away bouquets of wild flowers every year on the first day of April.

Warmth and love survive in the unlikeliest of places and there are no more unlikely than Soldier's Quarters on the eastern edge and there is no place of greater warmth and love than the house that sits at the end of endless rows of other houses just like it. On the outside, it is the same as all of the other stone-wrought houses made specifically for the lowly enlisted ranks of Bern's soldierly.

A heavy, oaken door on black iron hinges makes the forbidding mouth of an ugly house. There is no greenery because all the ground is stone and swept daily by biting winds, unprotected as it is near the top of a slop. There are no decorations because what need have soldiers of such ephemeral things as welcome signs and frescoed walls? But crack open that door and immediately there is a warm fur rug waiting to receive your feet. Everywhere hang drawings and paintings, some donated by grateful artists, others left by laughing children. A warm fire is always burning low under the mantle and soft, but thick drapes block out the chill and long summer suns. During the morning and all through the afternoon, its warm halls ring with the laughter and silly cries of children coming to learn their arithmetic and letters. Evening brings the poor to receive food and instruction in return for whatever they can spare. Dusk sees old friends and young couples seeking console and a kind word and night brings a restful peace seldom seen in the mortal world.

"Lucius! Luuuuciuuusss!!!" Well, usually it does.

"Blasted, no good, worthless, I-can't-believe-I-even-put-up-with-you, you _son of a two cent whore_! If I have to wait one more…" Dust leaps off any standing surface it might have taken refuge on while the neighborhood strays bolt as swiftly as they their beating legs can carry them. The demonic screeching finally halts when a serene, if slightly winded, voice answers in reply.

"Vaida, please be quiet. You're keeping Victoria awake and if you're not carefully, you'll wake up Miss Damien next d-," he never gets to finish.

"Silence! I don't give a wyvern's arse whether that stupid sow sleeps or not! It's not like _I'm _getting any sleep." The wyvern commander's eyes bores into the fair haired man's blue orbs, daring him to contradict her.

Several years ago, he might have cowered before her glare. Today, he simply gives her a sly smile. After all, Lucius has had several years practice with which to get acquainted with her moods, though outwardly they seem to range only from homicidal to murderous.

"I suppose…but I could have sworn that I woke up next to the fire place this mourning because I had been driven from my bed by some horrendously loud snoring." His smile turns into a smirk that nearly cuts his genial face in two.

Vaida rolls her eyes, "Impossible. I do not snore."

Vaida feels surprise as Lucius starts laughing and not just one of the ethereal chuckles of amusement that he so often gave to the children he taught, but a full laugh from deep inside his chest. Vaida can only mumble something half incomprehensible as the former bishop kisses her fully on the lips. Vaida nearly purrs as she hooks one of her much stronger arms around his slender neck.

"You do too snore," he says, his blond hair an encircling curtain around her face. "I also regret to say that you have begun to allow your duties back into your dreams again."

"Stop being so roundabout, _priest_. I am not one of your idiotic flock that-" she hits him with another withering glare when she caught him murmuring something (…certainly are not…),

"-that you can placate with obtuse parables. Speak plainly." Vaida continues the glare, which he returnes with his characteristic smile. "And just _what_ were you saying?"

His eyes crinkle with another hidden smile, "Well, to the first question, you've begun talking and wrestling around again. Several nights ago I awoke to find myself being cudgeled in the nose. When I tried to fend you off without waking you as well, you began to choke me. Something about foul curs daring to challenge your honor. However, given that it seems to be my fault that these fits come over you…" his hand moves lovingly over her belly, badly distended by her nearly completed pregnancy, "I can hardly cast any blame."

"No, you can't…" her lips move as close to his ear as possible without actually touching it, "…and what was that you were mumbling like a spoiled little child?"

The former priest of St. Elimine comes as close to snorting as he ever does. "As I was saying, you most certainly are not, nor ever were, one of the parishioners in my care."

"And a good thing too as I'd probably scare off the helpless little lambs…speaking of lamb, bring me some brazed wyvern steak from the market. And don't you dare bring me back any of that third rate carrion they try to hawk off at Merchant's Row. Go to Cutty's. And make it rare. I want it to still be twitching when I eat it." Vaida is falling back into her command voice, a habit which she practices daily, both on her soldiers and on her family.

Lucius offers her another smile as he pulls himself away…though he has to wait a bit before she actually lets him escape. "And I thought women were supposed to crave chocolates. No matter, I was planning on visiting several of your rider's families along with those of the third mountain infantry. There's a sickness going around that worries me and they will need help. I will bring you back your snack, then go to visit them and be back in time for supper." With that said, Lucius glides past her and out the door, his golden hair reflecting the descending sun.

Vaida smiles inwardly as she watches her husband of five years leaving, inwardly still in disbelief that she was even married, much less married to someone such as Lucius. Everything about Vaida is physical and mundane. She loves the roar of armies and wyverns, the feel of the rushing wind and the challenge of being King Zephiel's Knight Commander despite her gender. Lucius, however, often seems to her to be a hold over from an ancient kingdom no longer in existence. He is warmth, light, love and laughter, the gentle hand and the offered shoulder. Nothing about Lucius could be described as mundane.

She thought she would die young in pyrrhic glory, serving her beloved Zephiel with her bloody lance and now she is the mother of two daughters with a third child on the way. By the snowy bodice of Sainted Elimine, how had it happened?

Though she can remember it all, Vaida still does not know how it still happened. However, as she sits and reflects on all that has past and is passing, she can't help, but be happy.

Vaida winces as the child Lucius so confidently affirms is a son kicks inside of her. She gives her own stomach a sharp slap and then growls out, "Kick all you want, my little one. Kick, claw and scream your silent screams. I have broken countless vicious wyverns, warriors, and your two wild sisters. I've even broken your father, who in times past destroyed whole armies single handily. And when the time comes, I will break you and rest assured little one, every blow will be repaid."

The kicking stops and Vaida gives a small, but satisfied **hmph**, before lying her head back down on the pillow Lucius had provided.

And then the baby starts kicking again.


	2. A Real Man

**A Real Man**

Mornings are bitterly cold in Ilia and in the winter, they can be deadly. Nights are long and the winds are bitter as temperatures plummet to well below freezing. Yet, when you have to live with such harsh conditions everyday, you adapt. It is almost noon in the skies over the white fields of Hyjaal Valley and the sky is filled with the flitting shapes of pegasi and their young riders. Every day, from dark through day to dark again, they're out training so that they may one day earn the honor of knighthood.

At first, their movements are random with pegasi flitting every direction. Eventually however, one rider breaks herself off from the chaos and circles the middle of the field, her lance held high. Reacting instantly, the other riders wheel their mounts around and soon they are all in sync with one another. Working through a series of preordered drills, the trainees align themselves in a file and circling the area. Following a relay of horn blasts, they work their way through differing formations: wedge, lance on line, half-circle and half-circle rotating. The warm-up complete, a final triplet is blown as the leader executes a vertical dive for the ground, her pegasus flaring only a few scant feet from the frozen soil. Soon the leader is surrounded on all sides, the riders standing by their mounts at full attention.

With an ease that gives lie to the numbing cold, the rider smoothly removes her helm, revealing a head thickly wrapped in woolen cloth and sparkling sapphire eyes. With a quick tug, the wrappings are removed and a thick curtain of lavender hair falls free.

"Report flight leader Tate," she says in a quiet, gentle voice that still manages to carry the weight of command.

If possible, the young trainee became even more rigid as she saluted her superior with her lance, "Sir, twenty-five assigned, twenty-three present: Gale is on sick leave and Ameya has stable duty." 

Nodding slightly, the green-eyed instructor said, "We have a little wait, I'm afraid. Turn your pegasus to the side and get behind their wing. It will help with the wind."

Glad to be put at ease, the trainees quickly did as they were told. Soon, the instructor could see little besides their half hidden faces which bobbed up and down as they jumped or stamped in a vain effort to get warm. There was no movement or talking otherwise, however. This was their first day of training as cadets. Before, they had simply been children. Now they were entering the hardest phase of their training before becoming fully fledged knights. Each one of them eventually aspired to entering one of the four armies and, with luck, leading their own mercenary flight. In Ilia, this was a high honor as the mercenary knights were the country's nobility, protectors and primary bread-winners all rolled into one. Full knights were given the greatest respect.

Thus it was that none of them dared speak in front of their new instructor, whose silver clasp and elysium whip declared her status as a Falcoknight, an honor that would likely only be given to them in their wildest dreams. As if that were not enough reason for their silence, before them stood Florina, one of three sisters who had journeyed to the island of Valor and helped save the world by slaying the dark sorcerer Nergal and his twisted armies.

Recognizing their plight, Florina laughed slightly and smiled before saying, "How is everyone feeling; a little cold, maybe?" Heads nodded all around her.

"I know you don't believe me now, but you will get used to this in, oh, probably about two weeks time," Florina paused to give a gentle smile to the trainees to her rear, "Though I'm afraid it took me a good deal longer, but then, I never was a strong trainee." There were several incredulous glances at this. Florina, hero of the Battle of the Dragon, a weak trainee? The admission seems to put the trainees at ease and one of the braver ones ventures to ask a question.

"Sir, uhm, what are we waiting for?" Florina sees that it is Tate again. She is not surprised: the flight leaders are individuals selected for displaying potential for future leadership positions. The role is usually filled by highly driven, aggressive individuals.

_"Which is why I never was and never wanted to be flight leader,"_ Florina thought with an inward laugh.

"Our target," she replied enigmatically. Florina doesn't want to spoil the surprise. It's one of her favorite parts of instructing aspiring knights. To help pass the time, Florina quietly tells them about what the daily life of a knight is like. She is in the middle of explaining how the contract and spoils systems work when a loud crash from the wood line steals their attention.

"Good morning lassies, it looks like we've got a big group this time around!" comes a booming voice. Stomping towards them is a veritable mountain of man and metal, his shark's grin flashing in the early light.

Upon reaching the group of stunned and not a little frightened girls, the man loosed the leather straps crossing over his chest and easily hefted a massive pack over his head and set it at his feet. Like a bull getting ready for a fight, he took a big, long breath through his nostrils before releasing it with explosive force.

"Hah ha, you can't ask for better training weather than this, eh?" He looked at the stunned trainees, seemingly taking their incredulous stares as an affirmative. Florina manages to restrain herself from laughing. It's difficult, but it wouldn't do for her to be too easy going with the trainees just yet. She learned that the hard way with her first group.

"Perhaps now would be a good time for the formal introduction. Cadets, this is Drill Instructor Wallace Anais-Johansan. You will address him as Drill Instructor or Drill Instructor Wallace. I am Florina Anais. You will address me as Sir or Knight Florina. From now until you earn your place in a mercenary flight, we will be in charge of you. As knights in training, the future of Ilia rests on your lance. We will make sure you're ready for it." Florina paused to make sure she looked at everyone at least once before continuing, "This year we'll be focusing basic weapons handling with the goal of eventually winning the Ismuss Glacier Tournament," Florina allowed herself another shy smile, "which we have always won."

The trainees, of course, all know this. It is part of the reason they fought so hard to get assigned to this group.

"Drill Instructor," Florina said looking up, way up, "get them moving."

Ten hours later and the last cadet was flying back towards the cabin barracks while doing their best not to collapse into sleep on their pegasus and thus die of a very nasty fall. Only Florina and Wallace remained as Florina waited for her husband to the last of the targets to the storage pits and the pack the remaining pads into his massive pack. 

"Well, what do you think?" asked Florina, giving the much taller man an inquisitive stare.

"Hmph, a bunch of timid little princesses who think knowing which end of the spear goes forward means they know what it means to be a knight. They have no burning fire or fatal drive. Why, several of them were asking for breaks after only three hours! Disgraceful!" Wallace stamped the butt end of his massive spear into the icy tundra for added emphasis as the two began walking towards where Huey, Florina's pegasus, stood tied up. Florina worked quickly to untie her second best friend in the world.

"So, they're exactly the same as me?" Florina asked, half jokingly, half seriously. 

Wallace gave an indignant snort, "Bah, you have a spine of steel hidden under that beautiful face and you are truer with a lance than any soldier I have ever known, including that blond harpy in Bern. These little peacocks couldn't even hit _me_, much less the broad side of a castle."

This greatly amused Florina. Her husband obviously liked them and was simply showing it as he usually did. Giving his armored back an affectionate pat, she replied, "Well, you are pretty fast." It wasn't an exaggeration. Despite his age and the weight of his armor, the former Caelin general could still run and fight longer and harder than anyone else she knew. Her new trainees made that little discovery for themselves when Wallace served first as a mobile target for air to ground attacks and then as an extremely scary motivator on their daily run.

"Haha, you're absolutely right. Why, you're always right, sir!" Roaring with laughter, the bald giant scooped up Florina before she could so much as yelp and seated her on one his massive shoulders.

Affecting exasperation, Florina replied, "How many times do I have to ask you not to call me 'sir' anymore?"

"A hundred more times sir, and at least a hundred after that." Grabbing onto Huey's reins, Wallace half lead, half dragged the horse along with him as he kept up a constant stream of ideas and thoughts on the new trainees. Soldiering was a life long passion and before he had come to love his amazing woman, it had been his only one. War may not have occupied the top rung in his heart anymore, but it was still very high up there. When they were half-way to their log cabin and the port of Sindriarfjord and Florina still had said nothing, Wallace stopped to ask her what was wrong.

"What is bothering you Florina? Surely you are not tired. I have known you to be in the saddle for days and offer no more complaint than to wish for some better wind."

"Oh, I'm not tired. How could I be when you're doing all the walking for me? It's just that…oh, I don' t know. Every time we get a new group I feel so scared. This is only my third one. What if someone gets seriously injured or they don't respect me or I don't know what to do and-"

Wallace butted in before she was able to finish and work herself into an even greater state of self-doubt, as Florina was wont to do, "Hogwash, sir, absolute hogwash! If someone is hurt, we'll take care of them. That's what hard training is for anyway: to bruise them now so they'll be alive in the end. As for this ridiculous self-doubt, why I don't even know why you still have it. For Elimine's sake, you're a decorated Falcoknight, hero of the war against Nergal, an acclaimed instructor despite your youth and if that's not enough to make those pups bow down and worship the very ground you tred, then they'll be talking to- **auugghpbbtt**, gah, accursed snow!" A large clump of snow from an overhead pine branch, dislodged from the man's booming voice, had fallen past Florina and onto Wallace's bare head.

Most of her anxiety removed at the sight of Wallace's splutterings, Florina giggled. After helping scoop the snow out from near the back of his overlarge neck, she replied, "But that's the problem: they only listen because they're afraid of you."

"Well of course they're afraid of me. Hoho, they should be afraid me! I could wrap my arms around the lot of them and break them in two before the little pansies could do say a word, but is you that they look up to, you that they come to with their problems and their questions. I am simply your assistant…but you already know this. In fact, I bet you just like hearing me spell out your praises." Soon they are both laughing as Wallace found his collar full of snow again, this time thanks to Florina.

By the time the pair arrives at the doorstep of their warm little cabin (too little, in Wallace's opinion), Florina is asleep, curled up in Wallace's arms and Huey is getting their, though he is too big for any man's arms, even if that man is Wallace Anais-Johansen. Gently shifting his wife over to one side, he ties Huey up inside. Afterwards, he removes Florina's armor and boots before tucking her in their massive, fur lined bed. When the fire's fuel is replenished for the night, he sits down in a chair next to her and simply runs his fingers softly along her back.

He loves her so much, his Florina. When Lord Hausen died and the Lady Lyndis abdicated the throne to Kent, Wallace finally took leave of his homeland and journeyed north in search of new challenges to test against his spear. After being lost for months on end, he eventually stumbled into Sindriarfjord. Delighted to find that some of his old comrades resided there, Wallace sought out the three pegasus sisters. It was then that he learned Florina had accepted a position as an instructor. What had possessed her to do so, no one could fathom, but it was evident the shy girl was a half-step from falling to pieces and giving up completely. With the other two sisters busy in their own lives, Wallace stepped in and volunteered to be her assistant. 

It was rather comical, really. The first few weeks Wallace swore he spent more time reviving Florina from a faint then he did actually giving her any advice. Thankfully, it turned out that learning to tolerate his presence without passing out made standing in front of dozens of cadets an absolute breeze. The two continued to work together and things just sort of when from there.

_"Heh, she was always so afraid of men and look who she's with now. Haha, all she'd needed was a real man."_

Fini

This fanfic is dedicated to _Boon Companions_, by Snoopy6458. I don't know anyone else who is better a creating characterizations or Kent/Sain friendships than this talented young author.


	3. Hell's Angel

_Karel hadn't felt fear since he had been a very young child. His father had ruthlessly drummed the fear out of Karel and his brothers until there had been almost nothing left then Karel had finished the process. Karel may have been born to be a weapon, but it had ultimately been himself that had chosen it. He pushed his body and mind so far in his quest to forge himself into the perfect weapon that the Sword Demon had believed himself dead to fear. _

"_Tell me Karel, you are supposedly possessed by one demon. Where then, would another possibly fit inside that you would be possessed to disobey my direct orders?" Karel idly wondered how angry Mark actually was. His ice chip eyes were completely vacant of any trace of hatred or irritation and his dark, earth toned face was an utter mask. _

_Snarling, the Sword Demon let loose a burst of strength in an attempt to break the vice grip on his wrist. To his surprise, Mark stepped in closer until their chests were touching. In a breath, the tactician's legs were entwined with his own and he was falling to the dust. Before he could roll away or draw Wo Dao, Mark had positioned himself on top of his torso. Skeletally thin hands snaked through his guard even as his left fist collided with maniacal grin. _

"_Stop. SMILING!" He croaked. It was a useless gesture for even as his fists rained down on the elder man, he could feel his airway being brutally cut off by the lapels of his own robe._

_His lungs screamed for air and black dots began to swarm his vision. Driven feral by his own rage and fear, Karel made one last desperate lunge forward. There was a loud __**click **__as his teeth snapped together inches away from_ _Mark's face. His response was to simply deepen his hold and _pull. _Drowning…he was drowning in-_

_Oblivion_

_He wondered why, if he was indeed in the afterlife, his neck still hurt. "I can't believe I lost to tha-" Karel could _feel_ the crackle of his ligaments and tendons being ripped into shreds as his right arm was extended far, far beyond where it was naturally supposed to go. The sense of shock and nausea left him just in time to experience the full glorious agony of a repeated procedure on his left arm. He saw black again as his eyes rolled back into his head. _

"_I have heard that you sleep with your sword. Let me then, as your former commander, provide you with one last comfort for your journey." The man was insane, utterly insane. _

_There was an odd squelching noise accompanied by another flare of pain before Karel blacked out for the last time._

_¸,ø ¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ ø,¸¸,ø ¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ ø,¸¸,ø ¤º°°º¤¸,ø¤_

**Waaaapush Snap**

"**AHHHHH, AHH!!!"**

**Waaaapush SNAP**

"Hnnnn…." The screaming and moaning had eventually degenerated into a sort of wet sobbing. The sounds were issuing from a blackened, writhing mess that might have been a man. The thing that had once been a man vainly tried to crawl away from his tormentor, but in his blind grouping only managed a few inches before hitting a wall.

The sharp obsidian of the broken floor crackled slightly as dark haired demon advanced toward the moaning form as it continued in its futile effort to somehow slither away from its tormentor. "I don't know why you even bother. Honestly, I don't."

This did not stop the prisoner, who despite hundreds of tiny skeletal fractures and screaming nerves kept going. Animal noises of desperation issued from something that might have once been a mouth.

Walking beside the crawling figure, the demon continued to idly muse aloud, "You've been here for…confound it all. Just how long have you been here Zevasien?"

There was another hollow moan, this time louder as Zevasien was noticed by some of the demonic rats that prowled that particular fortress. The lobsided patter of their deformed feet and tumor ridden bulks began to grow slowly louder.

"Ah, yes…going on six hundred years, I believe. Really, shouldn't you know how this goes by now?" The first of the rats was on Zevasien now. "I suppose it's all technically irrelevant, since by nature every moment here is an eternity, but still…"

There was an annoying tittering sound, like a thousand old women snickering as the rats swarmed the helpless body.

"Raw gods, I'm so bored." The demon ceased the circular pacing he hadn't even realized he'd be doing to stare in disgust as the ravenous horde of rats began stripping the man of what remained of his flesh.

"You're making a mess," he pointed out languidly. Putting his hands on his hips, he continued to study the scene as Zevasien futilely tried to escape his tormentors. The demon sighed before asking, "I think it's time for a break, eh?" There were several loud thonks as Zevasien began smashing his head into corner wall.

"I'll take that as a, 'yes'." With that, the demon raised his extended arm and flicked his wrist.

**KaBOOM**

The demon sighed as he turned away and began hobbling down the adjacent hallway. "Have fun with Balthazzar," he told the smoking wreck that was now the southwest wing of his keep. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. Zevasien's body would just be rebuilt by the next demon whose turn it was torment him (Bathazzar in this case) and all he had to do was snap his fingers and a swarm of underlings would repair the damage.

"Worm'!" The demon screamed out. There was a pop and a weak puff of smoke as a what looked like a tiny, bipedal octopus with wings appeared hovering by his ear.

"Yes, your surliness?" It squeaked out in question.

"What is my agenda for today." Like he didn't already know…

"Uh, let me see..uhm, I have you down for torturing and maiming several heretics and necromancers at one, torturing and maiming a tax collector at three-thirty, torturing mai-"

"-ming the morphs at five, going on possession run with Malchius at quarter till six and bed at nine." The taller demon finished lazily.

"Uhm, yea tha-" He was interrupted again by a vicious growl before he could finish.

"Never mind! Just…just get the keep cleaned up." The demon Wormwood made several failed attempts to speak before he finally worked up the courage to tell his master the bad news.

"Ma-Ma-Mast-st-t-ter Karel, Fomortiis has re-r-requested your presence at tonight's feast." The poor thing was practically trembling in mid-air. Unfortunately for it, the former Sword Demon had little sympathy.

"Hah, Fomortiis 'requests' does he? Well you can that sorry piece of-" They were to never know what Fomortiis was a piece of for at that very moment, what seemed like a star fell down from the heavens…well, there weren't any heavens per se, but you get the picture.

"I'll deal with this later." Spreading his giant bat wings, Karel flew towards the fallen star, leaving a very much relieved demon behind to tend to the castle.

"Thrice accursed Demon King…ordering me around for eons…if _only_…find a way…the _first_ thing I'd do…"

"YOOOOOHOOOO, HELLLLOOOOO!!!"Karel nearly fell out of the sky at the sound of that voice, or rather, that _cheerful _voice. After living in hell for so long, one rather forgot what it was like to hear a cheerful voice. Flaring his wings, the dark swordsman came to a screeching halt in front of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Her soft, white wings glowed with a radiant pure light that was mirrored the virginal white of her gown. Fire could not touch her and darkness could leave no stain. It must be she, for it was undoubtedly marked by slender curves under rippling white dress and the flowing pink silk of her hair.

For a long moment, they simply stared at one another in complete bafflement. However, to his utter confusion, the angel looked downwards, a pulsing vein somehow standing out against her completely red face.

"What is wrong with you?" He was sorry he asked.

"You stupid idiot!" The devil in disguise exploded, "Don't you remember _me_?!" Well, now that she mentioned it, she did look deucedly familiar…and why did his right eye twitch every time she spoke?

"It's me, Serra…you know, charming priestess of St. Elimine, enchantress, physician, true friend and beauty." Her face was starting to get red again when something clicked in his head and he remembered his ice-blooded sister quite literally going mad with annoyance as she threatened to kill the pink haired priestess for changing her hair style while she slept.

Karel was vaguely aware that the tick was returning to his eye again with increasing violence. Suddenly, there was another mental click so loud that he'd thought he'd broken something. Fomortiis, though immensely powerful, could still be bested in fight if surprise lay in Karel's favor, the real problem being what to do with the cursed git before he simply regenerated himself and proceeded to carry out his threats of repeating his…ahm…demise several million times over.

"_And when I do it, it'll be with a morning star." _Karel shuddered at the very thought, but resolutely determined that he would press on with his plan anyway. He simply had to have a way of permanently neutralizing the Demon King once Karel subdued him the first time. His proud warrior's soul could not endure such endless servitude.

Listening to the fallen angel's endless prattle, he knew this would be his one and only chance. If he couldn't kill the Demon King outright, then he'd just drive him insane.

Decision made, Karel kneeled before the immensely surprised angel asked with head bowed, "Woman, I see that you are both powerful and beautiful, so much so that not even Heaven itself could contain you," if it was possible, she glowed even brighter at this. It made his eyes hurt. "Will you join me in my quest to overthrow Fomortiis, Lord of Hell and King of Demons. Will join me as my Queen, Queen of the Underworld?"

There was a piercingly sweet angelic squeal that nearly set his bones on fire as the demonic man was instantly wrapped in her embrace given a full on kiss to the lips. Karel congratulated himself when his iron will managed to endure not only the initial kiss, but when he amorously reciprocated, much to the fallen angel's delight. Ah, it was a very good thing he hadn't puked. He'd have to wash his mouth out with sulfur later.

"Come, my Queen!" And so hands enjoined they flew off into the burning twilight of Hell, bent on conquest. Karel laughed aloud as they soared around immense plumes of leaping fire and billowing ash. For the first time since he'd arrived here, he had a chance to win and prove himself stronger than even the mightiest demon.

"Hey Karel…" He managed to wrench his facial muscles into something he hoped look like a smile before turning to his pink haired trump card. Serra's face was beginning to match her hair.

"I..uh..why did…" Serra briefly chewed her lower lip in a way that might have been quite had he not known the horrors the priestess was capable of. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Uhm, Karel...why is there a…ahmm, sword stuck up your, er…"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

_Fini_

_I stole the artsy little divider from alena-chan. This chapter is devoted to Calamity, a Rath x Ninian by Lizzy Rebel. Calamity was the first decent crack pairing that I'd ever laid eyes on and easily the longest. You can thank her for giving me the initial inspiration. _


	4. Happy Sain

In his career as a Knight of Caelin and vassal of the Lady Lyndis, Sain Damon had seen his fair share of battles. He'd journeyed over the plains and the sea, through mountains, forests and deserts, under the cool light of the moon and the blazing heat of the sun; always forging ahead regardless of hail, sleet or tornado.

Well, maybe not tornadoes, but he figured surviving the boat ride over to Valor with his stomach (if not his lunch) still firmly in its proper place couldn't be too far off. He'd routinely faced hoards of bandits, stealthy assassins, vile sorcerers and enraged husbands countless times without so much as one of his beautiful eyes. In short, Sain was a major bad ass. Okay, so maybe he didn't possess quite as much badatude as say, his boon companion Kent…or Harken…or that Dorcas guy (heh, "Dork"-"ass"...hehe…heh)…or, well, you get the picture. But he was still a pretty bad ass dude, ya know?

Sain brought his battered shield up just in time to avoid being neatly bisected by an axe wielding berserker.

"**DIE, YOU PATHETIC INSECT! DIE, DIE, DIEEEEEE!!!"** The towering morph of must have had some serious anger issues 'cause he was completely off his rocker. Perhaps he had some daddy issues too?

"**KYAAAA!!!///WAAAAUGH!!!" **Sain yelped as the giant literally rugby tackled him, throwing both combatants to ground in a sprawling mess of limbs and severely bruising Sain's perfectly sculpted buttocks.

"Ommpff!" Getting the wind knocked out of you by a very large, angry man wasn't something that got any easier with practice, which admittedly, Sain had a lot of.

"What'd I ever do to you?!" Sain cried as he grabbed onto the morph's flailing arms in a desperate attempt to keep his neck from being crushed, wrung or otherwise separated from his shoulders.

"**GAAAAAH, MASTER WANT YOU DEAD!!!**" Sain spluttered as a bit of the raving man's drool splattered onto his lips.

"Well, I don't want to be dead, so piss off!" Yep, this one definitely had daddy issues.

Fortunately, in addition to being smacked around by large, angry men, Sain also had a lot of practice dealing with people issues. What with Vaida and her permanent PMS, Karel's downright disturbing love affair with his sword and _holy crap, that crazy $#!& just _bit _me!!! _

Sain retaliated by giving the crazy mother a well placed head butt. The morph was dazed, but the stupid git just bellowed before returning to his attempts to choke him out. Desperate, Sain broke his usual taboo of hitting below the belt and kneed the morph in the balls. Apparently the morphs had retained that design flaw peculiar to all natural born males as the killer immediately doubled over in agony.

"Sorry!" The poor sod looked so bad that Sain almost meant it…almost. Thankfully, our courageous cavalier did not tarry too long in sympathy and in a flash he had rolled out from under his foe, grabbed his discarded sword and stabbed the guy through his heart, killing him instantly. Poor dude. The cavalier didn't wish a nut shot on anyone…as a dedicated lover of women, Sain was very well acquainted with its intimate agony.

"_Besides,"_ Sain thought with a shudder as he raced blindly down the winding halls, _"better death than a living with your pecker permanently out of commission." _Huffing and puffing like a fat man on the bag pipes, Sain did his best to try and return to the general melee, but to no avail. Completely disoriented by the maze of winding, torch lit passages, it wasn't long before the gallant knight soon found himself in an unfortunately unfamiliar situation: being chased by a pair of very beautiful, even if maniacally evil, sorceresses.

"This, **waaagh-" **Sain ducked as he barely managed to losing his head to an aircalibur spell, "is sooo typical, **oh cr-" BOOM!!! **Desperate, Sain had taken a dive to the first open door he'd seen as the witches had headed him off. With one at both ends of the corridor unleashing simultaneous elfire spells, he'd thought he'd been dead meat for sure. The two spells had collided and completely caved in the hallway, no doubt killing the evil (but still very beautiful) sorceresses. Shame.

"Hello and what have we here?" The complete and utter collapse of the corridor had thrown the chamber into perfect darkness. Sain couldn't have seen his own hand if he put it in front of his face. That is, until his fumbling hands accidentally tripped a protruding metal switch on the wall.

"Woah…" By some magical means, Nergal had rigged tiny little glass bulbs on the ceiling to glow. Sain was completely amazed. They made absolutely no smoke, no heat and no noise except for a slight, but very definite buzzing. There were a couple of chairs lying around and Sain felt the temptation to grab one and try and poke the glowing orbs to see if the evil wizard had somehow imprisoned some kind of super large magical lightning bug inside.

"_Eh, best not to touch anything around here. You never…"_ Sain felt his eyes drawn to where an insanely large gold medallion and equally weighty book lay on a nearby desk that supported various flasks and vials full with all sorts of multicolored concoctions.

Sain gingerly picked up the medallion, which upon inspection appeared to be an uppercase "S" with a single vertical line cutting through its middle (read $). Numerous ornamental carvings were etched over its large surface and in the center was what looked like a single, massive blue diamond. He then flipped it over and found much the same, except there appeared now to be an equally massive ruby. The thing was incredibly gaudy, not to mention dang heavy. Finding nothing new, Sain next examined the book, opening it up to view the first line.

_Blue. Second month of summer, the year 3434___

"Ah…some sort of journal," he mumbled before continuing to read.

MY ALCHEMICAL EXPERIMENTS IN TRANSMUTING ORDINARY METALS INTO GOLD HAVE BEEN SUCCESSFUL BEYOND MY WILDEST DREAMS. NOW I CAN FINALLY BUY THAT NIFTY SET OF ROBES I'VE BEEN EYEING.

_Orange. Fourth month of summer, the year 3434. _

FASCINATING! WHEN COMBINED WITH A GEM PROPERLY INFUSED WITH QUINTESSENCE, THE NEWLY MADE GOLD ACQUIRES SEVERAL MARVELOUS PROPERTIES, NOT THE LEAST OF WHICH IS THE ABILITY TO INFLUENCE THE MIND. HAH, I SHALL SURELY BRING THE MOST INTERESTING DIVERSION TO THE NEXT TEACUP SOCIETY MEETING.

_Amber. Second month of winter, the year 3435._

SONIA IS WITHOLDING. I AM BEGINNING TO REGRET THAT I EVER ORDERED HER TO SEDUCE THAT BLACK FANG WRETCH. A CURSE ON HIS CHISELD FEATURES AND WASHBOARD ABS. AH…AHA. I SHALL USE THE PROPERTIES OF MY ALCHEMICAL GOLD TO WIN BACK MY WANDERING SNUGGLE-BUNNY.

_Amber. Third month of winter, the year 3435._

SUCCESS, MY AMULET IS A SUCCESS! ALL I HAD TO DO WAS SECURE THE AMULET IN MY LONG JOHNS WITH THE RUBY FACING OUTWORDS AND GIVE ONE VIGOROUS THRUST IN THE SPECIFIC DIRECTION OF THE DESIRED FEMALE. SONIA HAS RETURNED TO ME MORE AMOROUS THAN EVER BEFORE. I AM, HOWEVER, BEGINNING TO WONDER WHY I EVER MADE IT TWO SIDED. THE HURRICANE WAS ANNOYING ENOUGH BEFORE I THE EXPERIMENT. MEM. HAVE JAFFAR KILL LEGAULT. HE HAS BECOME ENTIRELY TOO FREE IN HIS ADVANCES.

Sain's eyes slowly widened as the realization of just what he was holding began to spread. By the time anyone noticed he had been separated from the group, he was practically singing with joy. By the time Athos teleported in to retrieve the errant knight, he was vigorously dancing. Or perhaps we should say prancing as his sense of rhythm probably wasn't good enough to make for proper dancing.

"Sain!" Athos barked, instantly bringing the knight's celebrations to an abrupt halt, "The dragon's breath boy, where 'av ye been?!" Sain immediately froze up, terrified as a schoolboy facing a good bum paddlin'. Crotchety old wizards with horrendous Scottish accents tend to do that.

"Uhhh, well…you see, I, uh…" Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately as it might turn out, Athos chose to ignore his disturbing behavior and the amulet clasped none too deviously behind his back.

"Time's ah wasting boy, thar's a battle to be wun!" Grabbing our poor knight by his ear, he immediately teleported the both them back into the now raging fight between Eliwood's forces and the final group of morphs.

"Now, get out thar' and fight fer' ye glory!" After delivering a final kick to Sain's much abused rear, the wizard was off, forblaze making quick work of the revenant Linus. Sain hurriedly shoved Nergal's magical amulet down his supply bag before leaping into the fray to join his comrades.

Laughing, he picked up a fallen silver lance and sprinted over to where he could see Kent and his old mentor Wallace wrecking havoc in the enemy ranks. _"What a great day this has been!" _He thought while gleefully ducking under a morning start aimed at his head.

_¸,ø ¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ ø,¸¸,ø ¤º°°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°°º¤ ø,¸¸,ø ¤º°°º¤¸,ø¤_

"I just don't get it," Eliwood groaned, near the verge of tears.

"How did this happen?" Will asked, running a hand over his face in despair.

"It's not bloody fair!" Hector growled, Armads trembling impotently at his side.

The three men could only gaze on in complete and utter hatred as their and everyone else's women cooed and fawned over a rapturous Sain on the deck of Captain Fargus' pirate ship.

"Some ale to quench your thirst, courageous knight?" Asked a worshipful Priscilla, who stood over Sain and his hammock with an enormous tray of beverages precariously balanced on one hand. "Or perhaps some lemonade…beer, tea, water?!" She was rapidly growing frantic as none of her drinks showed any signs of pleasing her love.

"It's okay darling, really." Sain graciously waved the panicking girl off, "I'm not thirsty at all right now. Perhaps a massage…" he trailed off pointedly.

"Of course! I'll get right-"

"NO, IT'S MY TURN!" The redhead was nearly knocked unconscious as the three pegasus sisters immediately stopped fanning Sain with their newly acquired dresses and began kicking and scratching each other in their fight to determine who would have the honor of providing said massage.

"Ladies, ladies," the dandy among knights simpered, "I beg of you, please stop. I simply cannot bear the sight of such beauties fighting over me." He quickly affected the pose of appearing to be faint.

"Ohhh, we're so sorry Sir Sain!" cried Fiora.

"Please forgive us!" said Farina.

"You can spank us if you wish, sir Sain," wailed Florina, "Just please don't feel bad!"

"There, there, there my good ladies," Sain consoled the sobbing riders, "there's no need for tears. Florina, you can get my shoulders, Farina can get my back and Fiora can take my legs. You see," he said, languidly rolling over onto his stomach, "everything works out."

"OH THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU SIR SAIN!" the trio squealed as they immediately set to work, much to the disgust of the on looking men.

"Sir Saaaaain! Wooohooo!" Serra's pink head was poking out of the deck hatch as she waved to her idol, "Rebecca and I have finished chilling the wine and grilling the swordfish you caught!" There was a muffled roar in response and Serra was forced with an apologetic smile to turn away from Sir Sain to yell back down the hatch that no, Dart most certainly had _not _caught that monstrous fish. Only Sir Sain's bulging and perfectly defined biceps were big enough to have possibly hauled in such a big catch.

"Is there anything else I can get for you honey poo?" Serra asked when she had finished screaming at the now subdued pirate.

"Just tell Ninian that I've changed my mind," he shouted back at her, "I'd like to see her in that burgundy dress for her special dance instead of the olive one." There was a small splash as Eliwood threw himself overboard, but nobody noticed. "Oh, and tell Karla to use only pine oil on my harness and be sure let Isadora, Nino, Luis and Lyn know that I like my clothing rolled, not square folded. It's just so much more compact that way…I hope it's not trouble?"

"Not at all! On it! Will do! We'll have everything ready in no time!" Serra called back as she made ready to go back under.

"Thank you much, love ya' babe." Sain yelled as sank back into his hammock. He smiled as Serra's delighted screech managed to make its way back to him. Sain was just about to close his eyes and go to sleep when he noticed the sunset sky shifting from a soft gold to the beautiful hue of violet and crimson. "Mmmm," he moaned appreciatively as he at last closed his weary eyes, "I think might be able to get used to this."

**THE END**

_A/N _

_Well that last chapter was dreadfully serious, wouldn't you agree? I hope you enjoyed this light hearted return to form. _

_This fic' is dedicated to Gunlord500's fanfiction, Certainty. I think any fic' that manages to pull off a Renault x Lyn even halfway decently deserves a little round of applause, don't you agree? Even better, Certainty is several rungs up from "half-way decent". _

_Whoa…TSaS has been inducted into a C2. I'm feeling surprisingly gratified since this is the first time that's ever happened while at the same time somewhat chagrinned. This collection of silly drabbles that I work on when I have nothing better to do is beating out all of my other stuff in reviews, hits and now in getting into C2's. Heh, ain't that just life? _


	5. By Your Actions

**5th Year**

Isabella was a happy child. Everyday she would greet the sun with a smile and leave it with a laugh. A stern eyed mistress with all ancient and proper decorum struggled to keep her lips straight when invitations for mid-morning tea arrive and foul mouthed guards speak fairly of the little princess who graces them with visits when the hours are long and the guests unappreciative of their vigil while the chattering maids let her dive through the linens. The head chef gladly labored next to the hot stove to produce the simplest of lemon tarts though Emperor Zephiel himself would have gladly served his dishes in the feasts of kings.

Even the mansion and its grounds seemed to share a common love of their little master. There was no corner that had not hid her, no door she had not opened, or a bed she'd not slept in. The very shadows of the hallway seemed to bend to accommodate her pranks while the wild flowers bloomed beneath her window. In turn, Isabella loved each and every one of them back, yet there were two she loved more than anyone else.

Mamma was a soft specter of golden hair so fair that it's only a few shades darker than her own snowy curls. Mamma was a sad, mournful wind whose eyes fill with strange tears when she looks at Isabella too long and a warm embrace that holds her until she forgets the day's ills and falls asleep, no matter how late the hour or busy the day. Mamma was a thousand little, "I love you" 's and quiet observance. Mamma loved her and her only and Isabella knew this and returned it, even though loving Isabella hurts Mamma.

After Mamma, Isabella had her dad, who she loves most of all. Her dad was a strange man who smells of worry and the kind of old paper she finds in the library. His hands were marked with blisters and burns while the air around him sings to Isabella of the power that restlessly dwells inside him. Before anyone else was there, before Mamma, before the mistress and guard, the chef and maids, Dad was there to dry her tears and make her laugh. Dad was her dad, even though he said he wasn't, but she called him "Dad" anyway.

**9th Year **

"Dad?"

"Yes, Isabella?" He looked up from where he was carving strange symbols in shiny steel with a glowing finger. Isabella waited a bit as the light fades from his eyes. She loved his eyes. They were big and purple like the flowers and they always glowed whenever he did magic.

"Dad, why can't I call you 'Dad'?" A few days ago he'd suddenly began making her stop calling him dad even though that's what he was. It seemed so obvious to her. Why couldn't Dad get it when he's so smart? After all, he knew practically everything.

He sighed quietly before standing up and looking at the nearby fire place. There was no fire. "Because I am not your father. It was not with me that your mother had you." Here he paused before saying, "If anything…I am your brother."

"But you don't act like a big brother. _Annnd_, you don't act like Mamma's your mamma."

Her statement was rewarded with a nervous chuckle before he answered, "Oh, really? How would you know if I didn't act like a big brother or your mother's son if you don't have a brother and you've never been a son?"

"Because of Sad Sam silly," went her straightaway reply.

The Woeful Tale of Sad Sam and Beautiful Beatrice was the book that he read to her every week, usually more, where a beautiful young princess and her courageous brother go off on a quest to save the old king and queen and defeat the evil wizard. Her Dad always said she was too old for it because, after all, he'd read her many complicated and very big books, but he never said no.

"And you're going to base your ideas of what a proper brother or father is on only one, very fanciful source," he said to her, indirectly scolding Isabella when he'd taught her to never have an opinion of something important unless you could learn from about it from somewhere trustworthy.

"But Master James and Mistress Eliza and Duke and Butch and everyone else always say that you're 'that girl's only father,' and that we're the best family they've ever had."

Isabella knew she was right. After all, her dad had taught her and he always said she was very smart and had "extraordinary memory for someone so young." Isabella waited a long time for him to say something, but he just kept looking at the empty fireplace place, leaving Isabella in a huff. She hardly ever got upset with him, but really, he was just being dumb.

"_Wellll_, you're really older than me, _riiiight_?"

Finally, Dad turned to face her instead of looking in the fireplace all gloomy. After regarding her with his serious eyes, he responded, "Yes," he said with a nod in confirmation, "I am."

"And you're not really younger than Mamma." Actually, he was eight years younger. She knew this, but she chose to ignore it or else perhaps she simply didn't consider it relevant.

"Isabella…" His tone became cautionary, but Isabella ignored it because she knew she could get away with more talking.

"And you take care of me, right?"

"Yes."

"And you love me, right?" Her dad's lavender eyes seemed to glow again at this and he suddenly looked even more serious than usual. When he replied, it was in that voice he used when he told her safety stuff.

"I always have and will always love you Isabella."

"And you love Mamma, right?" He looked very uncomfortable at that. Isabella bet she looked like that whenever she admitted doing something wrong, though she couldn't figure out how he could have done something wrong.

After a bit, he frowned slightly and looked away from her before whispering that, yes, he did. He seemed to dwell on this silently and then hastily clarified that he loved her like a son loved a mother because she and Isabella's real father had taken him in and treated him like their own son.

"But Mamma's not your mamma, right?" Warily, he agreed with her, so she continued, "_Wellll_, if Mamma's your mamma because how she treated you, then you're my Dad because you treat me like dad and don't treat Mamma like mamma."

He didn't seem to get it very well. "Isabella, this is an entirely different-"

"So you _are_ my dad and Mamma is mamma!" Isabella crowed triumphantly.

She doesn't understand why he puts his hand over his eyes. It really isn't so complicated.

**14th Year**

As she sat in the lightly padded chair of the head Stewardess and her best friend, Eliza Wardrer, Isabella was at a loss of what to even say. This worried the older woman, who despite already knowing what the problem was (indeed, wondering why it had taken Isabella so long to come in the first place), wondered how someone normally so loquacious could be at such a loss for words.

"I'm worried Eliza…I'm…" The graying woman shushed her from over her sparse desk before going back into her private cupboard. In a few moments, a steaming cup of lemon tea with honey was sitting in Isabella's hand.

When Eliza nodded to continue, she does, "When dad finally allowed me to formally train under him as an apprentice, I was thrilled. Remember, right?"

Yes, she did.

"Well, umm, part of the traditional process was the apprentice would journey first with the master and then on there own and, well, you remember…"

There was no one in the entire house who didn't remember. As soon as Isabella had made up her mind about going, her dad had brought her to inform her mom. Initially, she'd seemed fine, maybe even proud of her only daughter's decision. But when they'd come to the part where Isabella's home studies would end and she would travel, her mom had put her foot down. Hard. She had calmly, but very firmly informed them both that Isabella could get her education through other means than tramping through the countryside. To Isabella's surprise, her dad had stuck by her desire to go out. They'd debated back and forth, suddenly oblivious that the same Isabella whose fate they were deciding was sitting next to them.

They were cordial enough in the beginning, but things slowly became ugly. Dad told mom that she, "was hardly one to disparage someone for 'tramping through the countryside' considering how she'd spent over half of her life." Mom had countered that, "it was a miracle that you survived even a month with Serra," and that he, "couldn't expect Isabella to have the same luck!" The argument had slowly gotten worse until her mother had struck the iron to the proverbial flint.

_Isabella couldn't understand how the situation could be turning so quickly. While she couldn't catch every, or even most of the nuances in the conversation, it wasn't hard to realize that they were talking over her head. It was like when the Captain Eckert would tell the other guards about his time "out in the field" and everyone would start laughing even though Isabella hadn't heard an actual joke. It drove her crazy. _

"..._Erk, no, and this. Is. Not. Happening." Her mom was plowing on through the conversation, a tactic she sometimes resorted to when an argument was beginning to upset her too much. Usually it worked because Louise was rarely argumentative and Erk had an extreme amount of patience. This time though, her blunt approach was backfiring. The once cozy room literally became several degrees colder as the lavender haired sorcerer went as quiet and as still as a corpse. His hand nearly shook with tension, the knuckles white. After waiting until he thought himself under control, he spoke again, his voice obviously constrained, "Louise, this is not your decision."_

"_I don't care Erk. I'm her mother, you're not- " What happened next scared Isabella more than anything ever in her whole life. _

_"Don't you **dare!**" A wave of some invisible_s something_ seemed to wash over Isabella as the candles flickered and parchments shuddered. Mom looked pretty scared too. "I love Isabella more than my life and I've given _everything_ to raise her and be a husband to you!" Mom had looked horrified at this, shouting back in reply that he was not Pent and she never asked him to burden himself by acting in his place._

_"Well what if I wanted to?" He looked like he'd regretted it before he even finished talking, but it was too late. The words were out. The two stared at one another in absolute horror for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, her dad's composure reasserted itself and he brought himself back to a cool facade of intellect. _

_"...Isabella...will stay here then," he pronounced, his formal appearance betrayed by his hesitation, "If you'll excuse me..." with that, he positively fled the room, leaving Isabella to stand forgotten by her mother as she started sobbing._

Isabella looked back up at the steward, to see her smiling gently. Without saying anything, Eliza got up and fetched a small tea set that had been sitting in the corner of her room near the estate's financial records. With the slow deliberation that characterized all of her movements, Eliza poured Isabella another cup before moving on to herself. Isabella happily took up the unspoken offering and sipped on the tea. It was black tea, probably from southern plains of Lycia.

"This has been a long time coming 'bella...honestly, I'm surprised that it took them so long to reach this point, but Master Erk is horribly reticent and the Mistress never really laid the late Lord Pent to rest." This didn't make Isabella feel much better. She'd seen it coming too and hadn't been able to prevent. Now all she could think of was how one of the two would either leave or they'd all live with this horrible tension.

"But what can I _do?_" She asked Eliza, holding the much older woman's eye contact stubbornly. Eliza just sighed and looked down to where she was idly stirring her tea.

"There's not much to do 'bella. You cannot force yourself to feel something and neither can they. The masters will have to work it out for themselves…or not at all."

When the Reglay family steward saw Isabella's despairing expression, she gently laid her hand on the young heiresses' arm and said, "Don't worry too much 'bella. The master's love each other. They just haven't worked out how yet. But remember that regardless of what may happen, they both care about you more than anything…you are a very lucky young woman my lady."

All Isabella could do was nod.

Isabella couldn't help, but let loose a long sigh of satisfaction as her hand caressed the familiar ripples on a small, exquisitely made mail shirt. It was truly the finest that money could buy: thousands upon thousands of tiny scales like that of a fish had been wrought from stainless steel with a collar made of copper purposefully tarnished to a deep sea green. It produced a series of nine, ever widening circles out from the neck and inside each circle lay a rare pearl from Caledon. The craftsmen had performed their task to perfection and it had been Isabella's pleasure to add the final touch that would make it a truly magnificent gift: magical enchantments.

While Isabella did not have her father's talent for casting physical spells, she was a prodigy when it came to imbuing objects with magical properties. The task was an extraordinarily subtle one that you could spend a lifetime on and never fully understand. Over the period of a week and a half, she had worked constantly to weave into the material the Savior Fate's blessing, almost completely forsaking food, sleep or even movement as she wove the delicate patterns necessary. In the end, it had worked and though it was a vast simplification, one could say it was a good luck charm that actually worked; an enchantment that bent fortune in favor of the mail's bearer in times of great distress.

Isabella had just finished it not more than three days ago and she had spent every minute of them sleeping or eating. It had been worth it though. The mail was truly a masterwork now and a worthy gift from the entire Reglay family to the visiting Emperor Zephiel. She was about to add in the engraved print of the Reglay coat of arms when there was a light knocking on the door. Annoyed at being interrupted, Isabella had almost asked whoever it was to leave her alone until dinner when her mother suddenly walked in the room.

"Isabella, can I talk to you?" she quietly asked.

Giving her mom a wry smile, the younger Reglay replied, "Sure, I mean, you're already here and talking so what's a little more going to hurt?" Her attempts at joviality failed though, as the golden haired woman failed to respond in kind. Instead, Louise kept her serious and slightly nervous expression as she sat down next to her only child.

Stroking Isabella's hand lightly, Louise quietly said, "I'm sorry you had to see us fight…it was irresponsible of us."

Isabella nodded mutely.

Discouraged by the lack of response, but nevertheless wanting to make herself heard, Louise pressed forward, "Isabella, I-I know that you've always thought of us as husband and wife, but…" Louise seemed to lose her ability to speak for several long moments. Mutely, the elder Reglay stared at her daughter as she struggled to put her feelings into words. How do you do you tell your only daughter that the man who raised her as a father could never be your husband because you still only saw him as a young student you took in as a substitute child? Louise was painfully aware of how much Erk had done for her and the infant Isabella when he had assumed her beloved Pent's responsibilities. She thanked Elimine everyday for sending the young man to her home. Louise had always hoped that it would be enough, but it appeared to no longer be so.

"_Or maybe it never was to begin with?"_ Louise wondered morosely while she stared down at her daughter. It pained her in way she couldn't name to see Isabella so uncertain and anxious. The child was usually so full of joy and certainty. Indeed, in that aspect, she was a spitting image of her mother in her early years. And as Isabella looked back up to her mother for an answer to her problems, Louise found that she couldn't give one. So it was that, she remained where she was long after her daughter left. About to leave, Louise was interrupted as the door silently opened, revealing a pale, but otherwise composed Erk. She remained silent as he approached her and stopped. The two regarded one another in silence before Erk spoke, completely blank faced.

"I apologize for bringing this up." There was no need to say what "this" was as he gestured vaguely into the air.

Louise could only offer a wan smile in return. No doubt the mage would give a solemn offer of peace in exchange for his last words to her followed by a swift lapse into cold formality. Erk had changed and matured in many ways, but in some he'd stayed the same in all the long years Louise had known him. She spoke before he could make his offer, choosing to ask him a question that left her morbidly curious.

"Tell me Erk, how long have you…how long have you..." Louise allowed her gaze to wander off towards the hutch, though she doesn't pay attention to it. Strange though it was, she was feeling curiously numb.

The answer was as thorough as always, "…the day Isabella recovered from her fever. That was a hard time. Our protectorate ravaged by some mystery plague, the peasants rebelling even as our coffers were drained and the bandits plundered. The world seemed to be falling down around our ears. And then Isabella fell sick…"

"_Yes, and then Isabella," _Louise still had occasional nightmares of that time, when the family physician came to her and apologetically pronounced that her daughter had three months to live. As a young maid high on spring romances, she had often bandied about the term, "to be shattered from within". It was romantic to think of such devastation because the beloved inevitably returned to comfort the lover, erasing the hurt. When Pent was struck down, Isabella discovered the truth of that phrase. When Isabella was diagnosed with the plague, she learned it anew.

"…you worked night and day, never knowing a moment's rest. You were sick, worn and nearly delirious with fatigue and fear for Isabella…" Here Louise looked back up towards Erk and found that he was staring at her, lavender eyes heavy with the weight of what he was saying. "…and yet, you nothing, but kind words for myself, even though I was near useless. You comforted and consoled and cajoled; somehow getting things done without leaving Isabella. I could only watch in awe. And then, when Isabella recovered and you finally allowed yourself to collapse into the first real sleep in months…you hugged me, told me you couldn't have done made it without me and that you loved me."

His eyes show with the weight of his memories. Louise had almost forgotten her sincere thanks made nearly incoherent by fatigue, but Erk, clearly, had not. He had treasured them.

"It was at that point that I began to think of you as more than a mother or a friend. I dared to hope that maybe…maybe I could take Lord Pent's place in your heart as well as in your house."

The silence left by the end was absolute. Erk gazed at her with open longing now, but nevertheless began to turn away. "That is where I stand Louise. But no matter you may feel, I hope you know that you can always depend on me." He seemed to want to say more, but instead settled for a painfully twisted smile. He stepped towards door-

-and was stopped by Louise's hand.

Erk tensed like a coiled spring, but did not turn as Louise said, "I truly am blind if you've felt this way about me for so long. I'm…I'm sorry that you've had to feel this pain." Louise felt sick and vaguely weak, "I don't love you like a husband Erk. I look at you and still see the poor young student that I watched over." His shoulders slumped almost unnoticeably at this, his back arching as if he were an old shirt shrinking from too much abuse and too much heat. "And I _never_ want anyone to take Lord Pent's place. The memory of him is something that I will always treasure."

Erk nodded mechanically at his and moved to continue, but found himself still restrained. Against his will, he was slowly turned around and discovered that he was staring into Louise's lavender eyes. They were so like his own, yet so much softer.

"If…I don't want a replacement for Pent. If this is to be, I want _you_."

Erk felt something indescribably joyous surge within him, but he was ever studious and did not miss what her intent. And neither did Louise miss the expression on his face, however subtle it might have been. She would make this issue clear between them, lest it ripped them apart.

"I wasn't lying when I said I only thought of you as the young boy that I mothered. I still do and I don't think I can see you as anything more." She had to be honest with him, no matter how cruel it might have sounded. She could not afford to lie. Still, Louise continued, " But…because of what you've done and how Isabella feels…"

Erk's eyes seemed to gain a new inner light, blazing as with white lightning in their hope. Louise felt a spike of fear as her determination faltered. How could this ever turn out alright? She would only hurt him. Why couldn't things have simply have stayed the same? She had been content; happy, even. But no, life always changed even as it remained the same.

"You have a year to…to court me. And I promise that I will keep an open mind."

This seemed to dismay Erk and for a moment the inner fire seemed quenched. He would gamble everything on the slim chance of her pity for his pain and love of Isabella. Louise knew what was against him and wept silently. Soon though, she found herself enveloped in the scent of old paper, ink and comforting bitterness of ashes.

They embraced and they wept for the hardship that was to come and the fear of possible hurt. And as they embraced, both dared to hope for something far greater than what they had, no matter how slim the hope.

Fini

_A/N_

_Dang…let another one run away from me, I guess. I'm getting sick of all the drama/angst I'm throwing in, but I'd already started this. Meh, I've always liked the idea of Erk x Louise, but not with Pent still in the equation. I did toy with the idea of flashing forward again and showing them happily together, but I prefer the indefinite ending. Happiness is never a guarantee, while suffering is._

_This chapter is dedicated to Samuraiter's One Year, the FE monster that first got me started about writing as a hobby. The direct inspiration for the idea and style comes from Likeness, a Teen Titan's fic' by Guardian Kysra. Next up will be the finally complete Queen of Frost, King of Flames. I hope you enjoyed the read. _


	6. Temporary Update

Hello everyone. This is for those of you who have an alert placed on either this story or myself. To get straight to the point, Queen of Frost, King of Flames has finally been finished. However, due to the fact that it's about five times longer than any other chapter and the content is more drama/spiritual than romance, I've decided to put it up as a separate story. So go check it out and let me know what you think!

This will be deleted shortly.


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